Ice
by Jessica R Vance
Summary: A prequel to Les Misérables, focusing on the younger years of Inspector Javert. PLEASE READ THE WARNING!
1. Warning - PLEASE READ

READ THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
I have been fully informed that this fanfiction is a "Mary Sue." Okay. Fine. So it is. Now, if you don't like Mary Sues, please go away now. Oh, and please don't flame me for writing it. I have a right to write whatever I want to without people who don't even read my work flaming me for it.  
  
Here is a list of things this fanfiction involves:  
  
1. Javert in a heterosexual relationship.  
2. Javert in a relationship with someone not mentioned in the book.  
3. Some details about Javert's childhood changed from the original book.  
  
So if you have a problem with anything listed above, leave now. Do not pass Go, do not collect 200 francs, and for the love of God, DON'T FLAME ME.  
  
I got bad reviews for this fic being a Mary Sue before, when I didn't put a warning in it. Now I'm putting a warning, so people who don't like Mary Sues can be fairly warned and steer clear of this awful piece of crap.  
  
If you're cool with Mary Sues and don't mind an original character being stuck in a fandom, you have the go-ahead! If you want to flame me, let it be for bad spelling, grammar, or something like that. Happy reading! ^_^  
  
~Sarah 


	2. Ice

Ice  
  
By: Jessica R Vance  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Summary: A prequel to Les Misérables, focusing on the younger years of Inspector Javert.  
  
Disclaimer: I own Mallory, I own the reason Javert is how he is, and I own the storyline. I don't own Javert, nor do I own Les Misérables. Phooey.  
  
AUTHOR'S IMPORTANT NOTES: Read this with an open mind. We all know Javert as the "heartless" guy who chased Valjean all over the place, but for this fic, I ask you to recall a time when he may not have been completely devoted to duty. I want you to realize that at one point, even Javert must have cared about someone. Maybe even been in love.  
  
Oh, and by the way. This isn't a Valjean/Javert slash fic either. I'm not totally opposed to that theory (in fact, I think it's quite plausible), but this doesn't happen to be a romance between them. So if you're one of those mad "Valjean and Javert only!" people, go away now. ^_^  
  
Also, I know I don't know a thing about the legal system of France. So don't flame me for getting jobs wrong. I know I probably don't have everyone's duty correct. ^_^;  
  
~*~ICE~*~  
  
-1793 Le Pradet-  
  
There are situations in which the you have forgotten yourself, the world is trying to, and God doesn't seem to be very much help at all.  
  
Such was the situation of our character.  
  
Our character had her particular section of the street from which she watched the activities of daily life. She sat there on this particular day, observing. Vendors advertised their wares to potential customers, two prostitutes quabbled, and the citizens of Le Pradet bustled about as usual. All the while, our character watched them.  
  
For the sake of convenience, we will call our character Mallory, though no one can quite remember what her real name was.  
  
Mallory was a slight young girl of 13 years. She was not pretty, by the standards of society - that is to say, her skin was not soft and white, her hair was not long and shining, and she did not have an air of innocence. This last item was to be expected. One cannot live on the streets for as long as Mallory had and still have any sort of air of innocence.  
  
Mallory had a friend, a boy her age, with whom I am sure the reader is familiar. His name was Javert.  
  
This Javert was not the hardened police inspector that we know, however. Indeed, he would grow up to be that man, but, difficult as it is to believe, everyone was once a child. This Javert lived on the streets of Le Pradet with his mother, Bernadine, and was content to live this life. He had freedom, he had his mother, and he had his best and only friend, Mallory.  
  
All this was soon to change.  
  
On this particular day, it had not rained in any region near Le Pradet for several months. Food was becoming more and more scarce, and the residents of the alleys and streets were feeling the effects.  
  
"I'm so hungry..." Mallory moaned, lying flat on her stomach. She watched the people bustle by and sighed. "When do you think it'll rain?"  
  
"I don't know," Javert replied sullenly, picking at a seam on his ragged trousers, "Probably never will again."  
  
Mallory stuck her tongue out at him. "You're such a sourpuss," she said reproachingly, poking him in the side.   
"I've good reason to be," the boy answered, "Maman's in a bad way again."  
  
Mallory's smile faded as she sat up, staring at him. "How bad is it this time?" she asked.  
  
Javert turned away from her, a sure sign that it was too bad to mention. "She's got to have food. But there is none. It's hopeless." His eyes fell on a baker's shop across the street. "If only we had some money..."  
  
"We could beg," Mallory suggested, studying him. He shook his head.  
  
"I tried already... I only got a few sous." He frowned deeply and punched the ground, "It's not fair."  
  
"I know," the girl answered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and embracing him, "But there's nothing we can do."  
  
Javert didn't answer. He only kept his eyes fixed on the shop across the street.  
  
~*~  
  
"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! I HAVE TO GET TO HER!"   
  
"Hold still, vagabond!"  
  
Mallory snapped awake and looked frantically for the source of the din. She bounded through the alleys, following the sound of the voices. She knew that voice, she knew it...  
  
Javert!  
  
She saw him. He was clutching a loaf of bread to his chest and trying to fend off two large police officers. "Leave me alone! Let me be!" he howled. He was like a kitten against two guard dogs - he didn't have a chance. One of the officers' knee met his stomach. He doubled over, gasping, and dropped the stolen bread.  
  
While the one policeman bound his hands, the other picked up the bread. "It is ruined now," he muttered, frowning. He turned his glare at Javert. "This is all your fault, you worthless beggar!" He drew back his foot as though to kick his prey.  
  
"Stop! Leave him alone!" Mallory threw herself in front of Javert before the officer could touch him. He stopped, startled, then began to laugh.  
  
"What is this? A little bitch protecting her puppy? Stand down, girl, this isn't your concern!"  
  
But Mallory was stagnate. "You leave him alone! He was just trying to feed his mother!"  
  
This increased the laughter. "That's rich!" He put a firm hand on Mallory's shoulder and moved her aside forcefully. "I'm sure his intentions were just as good as gold, madame," he said sneeringly, "But nonetheless, off to prison with him!"  
  
"NO!"  
  
"Come along then." The officers led Javert away. He kept his eyes shut tight as he followed them, trying as hard as he could not to cry. Mallory stared after them, then broke into a run and followed.  
  
"Please monsier, you're not taking him to the galleys, are you?" she asked plaintively, grabbing her friend's arm. Javert looked at her sorrowfully.  
  
The officer, not mocking for the first time, shook his head. "No, little girl, he's much too young. But he's too old for us to let him go without punishment; he should know better!" He clamped a hand on Javert's shoulder. "No, he'll go off to the prison with the women and the other young people."  
  
"Please monsieur..." Mallory said again, "May I come and visit him?"  
  
"Only family members are allowed to visit."  
  
"How lucky that is for me, then!" Mallory exclaimed, causing Javert to look at her questioningly, "I am his sister!"  
  
Javert, quickly catching on to her game, spoke for the first time. "Yes monsieur, this is my sister Genelle. May she visit me? I shall need news of my mother."  
  
The officer was skeptical, but sighed. "I suppose I can allow it... but only twice a month, you understand." The two children nodded.  
  
Javert suddenly had a thought. "For how long will I be in prison, sir?"  
  
The officer seemed to be calculating. "I believe the sentence for theft is five years."  
  
"Five years!" Javert and Mallory exclaimed together.  
  
"Yes." The officer said no more.  
  
Mallory whispered Javert, "I will come and visit you, I promise."  
  
Javert only said, "Go to my mother."  
  
~*~  
  
"Bernadine?" Mallory whispered, entering the alley she knew Javert and his mother inhabited for the majority of the time, "Bernadine? Madame? Are you here?" She heard a faint groan.  
  
"Mallory..."  
  
Mallory rushed to the woman's side. She looked so thin... "Are you all right?"  
  
"Mallory, where is Javert?"  
  
The girl blinked back tears. "He... he's gone right now... he'll be back though, it won't be long. Is there anything you need?"  
  
A bitter laugh caught in Bernadine's throat, causing her to cough. "Oh my dear... no, there is nothing I need. Not anymore." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Tell... tell Javert..." she rasped, "Tell him I love him, will you?" She coughed and sighed once more, then didn't move.  
  
Mallory stared wide-eyed at her. "Oh dear God..." she felt a wail rising in her throat. She tried to force it down, but failed miserably.  
  
Her world was collapsing around her.  
  
~*~  
  
"What do you want?" the turnkey demanded when Mallory knocked on the prison door.  
  
"I... I want to see my brother," she answered shakily.  
  
"Who is that? I don't know your brother!"  
  
"He... he was brought in today for stealing food... his name is Javert, he's a young boy, my age, do you know-" she was cut off by the squeak of the door opening.  
  
"I know him. They said you were allowed to visit twice a month."  
  
"Yes monsieur."  
  
"Best not waste your visits, Mam'selle," he commented, adding the title jeeringly. He led her to a cell at the end of hall and opened the door.  
  
In a dark corner sat Javert. "Ah!" he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. He ran to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Did you find my mother? How is she? Did she ask about me?"  
  
Mallory looked at him mournfully. "Javert..." she began.  
  
Whether from some supernatural force, or simply from the look in Mallory's large, sad eyes, Javert knew. It struck him, quick and hard, and he knew that his mother was dead. But he had to hear her say it. He stared hard at her, his icy eyes melting a hole in hers.  
  
Mallory felt a lump in her throat and she turned away from his gaze. "I'm sorry, Javert," she shuddered, "It was too late... I couldn't help her... she's... she's gone..." she sobbed, "I'm so sorry..."  
  
Javert released her and turned away. "I shouldn't have left." Mallory's head jerked up and she stared at him, aghast. "I shouldn't have left her, Mallory... she died without me." He squeezed his eyes shut tight; a tear leaked out of each and his fist flew into the stone wall. "If I hadn't have left, she might not have died!"  
  
"Javert, are you mad?" Mallory gasped, "It was too late, she would have died anyway! There was nothing anyone could do!" She put a hand on his shoulder gently, but he shrugged it away.  
  
"There might have been!" he exclaimed, turning to her angrily, "How do you know?" He paced back and forth, tears spilling down his cheeks, "If only I hadn't have been caught! If only I had have stayed with her!" He sunk to the floor.  
  
"If only I hadn't cared so damn much!" He buried his face in his hands and began to sob.  
  
Mallory was at his side, stroking his hair and crying with him. She whispered his name over and over, her face at his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault," she protested, "You loved her, you had to do something..."  
  
"Perhaps I shouldn't have loved her!" Javert hissed angrily, "Had I not, she wouldn't have died!"  
  
"Had you not, you would not care if she did," Mallory pointed out. Javert considered this, then shook his head.  
  
"To love is useless," he muttered.  
  
This was like a knife to Mallory. "A fine thing," she said, frowning at him, "Would you cease to love me? Am I useless to you?" Javert's head shot up.  
  
"Mallory, no! You are like a sister to me!"  
  
Mallory looked over her shoulder to see if anyone had heard this. "You must be careful, you great dolt," she hissed, "To these wardens, I *am* your sister." Then she turned back to him and said gently, "I must leave you now. But I will visit you again, I promise you." She embraced him and kissed his forehead softly. Then she was gone.  
  
~*~  
  
A few months later, a soft snow covered the city of Le Pradet. The joyful sang songs of Christ's birth; the miserable had no reason to believe in Him.  
  
Mallory made her way shivering to the prison. The turnkey, now accustomed to her visits, let her in and led her straight to Javert's cell. "Joyeux Noel," he remarked, rather bitterly, before leaving her.  
  
"Hello, Javert," she greeted him, smiling. He nodded to her, giving her a small grin. He smiled more frequently these days, though less than he had before. She blushed, rather shyly. "I... brought you something," she said quietly, kneeling in front of him. He looked at her questioningly.  
  
"What for?" he asked.  
  
"Christmas, of course!" she answered, reaching into her pocket.  
  
The necklace was nothing spectacular, really. A piece of stone, prettier than most, with a crude hole carved into it, on a dirty, stray string. To anyone else, it would have seemed tawdry and unimportant.  
  
To Javert, it was a treasure.  
  
His eyes shone. "It's beautiful, Mallory!" he exclaimed, taking it from her gently. He pulled it over his head, arranging it carefully on his chest. He smiled at her. "Thank you!"  
  
Mallory's smile was brilliant. "I'm glad you like it," she said sheepishly, "I know it's not much..." She took the stone in her hand and examined it, "But it's all right, isn't it?"  
  
"Of course," the boy answered softly. His eyes grew sad. "I'm sorry... I have nothing to give you!"  
  
Mallory shrugged; her smile remained. "I didn't expect you to. It's quite all right." She looked up at him. "To see you happy is quite enough."  
  
They smiled at each other and gazed out the small window at the falling snow.  
  
~*~   
  
-1798-  
  
Five years passed thus, with Mallory visiting Javert as often as she could. Time passed, and as boys and girls who are becoming men and women often do, Javert and Mallory began to see each other very differently. Mallory began to see a tall, broad-shouldered young man, handsome in a brutish way with intense blue eyes. Javert saw a slender young woman with fine features and a quick, easy smile, which he loved the most when it was directed at him.  
  
The day Javert was released, Mallory was beside herself with nervousness. Prison life had not appeared to have changed her friend much, though for the past few days he had looked especially thoughtful. She wondered what could be on his mind as she paced in front of the jail.  
  
"Mallory?"   
  
She whirled around, smiling, and threw herself into his arms. "Oh Javert!" she exclaimed, embracing him. She pulled back and gazed at him. "How wonderful it is to see you out of a cell!" As Javert laughed lightly and returned her embrace, she studied him. "You, monsieur," she stated, "Are in need of a bath and a shave."  
  
Javert grinned. "Do I smell?"  
  
"Like a dog or worse," Mallory confirmed, taking his hand, "Come with me."  
  
~*~  
  
Javert sat in an unfamiliar room, rather wary. Mallory was holding a razor and studying his face. He felt a bit like a victim.  
  
"Why are you staring?" he asked uncomfortably. Mallory laughed.  
  
"I'm wondering how I should shave you," she answered, taking his chin in her hand and turning his face from side to side. "Shall I leave whiskers?"  
  
"I think not," Javert answered, scratching at his face and frowning, "They itch. I've had them long enough."  
  
"I should think they'd be quite dashing," Mallory sighed, shaking her head, "But as you wish!" She set to shaving him.  
  
"Whose apartment is this?" he asked while she shaved.  
  
"Mine," she answered nonchalantly. Javert's eyes widened.  
  
"This... this is yours? How did you come by it? How do you pay for it?" He was so shocked that he turned around to face her abruptly. This caused her arm to falter and scrape his face slightly.  
  
"Now look!" Mallory exclaimed, "You've gone and cut yourself!" She retrieved a cloth from the table and dipped it in the water, cleaning his face. "You must be more careful!" Once she had cleaned his cut, she resumed shaving him.  
  
There was silence.  
  
"Mallory?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How do you pay for this room?"  
  
Mallory was silent for a moment more, then said, "Odd jobs around the town. There are many old women glad to have a young pair of hands and feet for cleaning."  
  
"And many old men glad to have a pretty girl to look at as well," Javert remarked before he thought about what he was saying. Mallory blushed, and her hand paused its shaving.  
  
"I... I wouldn't know about that," she whispered, and continued. Javert smiled gently, his face hidden from her view. He reached up and took her hand in his, taking the razor away from her and setting it aside. Mallory's blush increased. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly.  
  
Javert didn't answer, but brought her hand to his lips and lightly kissed it. Mallory trembled slightly. Without another word, he returned the razor to her and sat back.  
  
"Well? Finish my shave!" he ordered.  
  
~*~  
  
"I shall need to get a job," Javert decided the next day. "In the meantime, you shall tell your old women that you won't be coming to clean for them anymore."  
  
Mallory stared at him. "What? I can very well make money, you know. We shall both work," she decided. As with many things, the word of the woman was final. Javert went to work, and Mallory continued her job.  
  
And what exactly was Mallory's job? We will see.  
  
It was true what she told Javert, that she cleaned houses for a few of the elder residents of the town. But this was not the extent of her work. While Javert had been in prison, she had found herself more than once wandering to the vile "red light" district. More than once a gentleman had approached her, and more than once had she accepted his advances for a fee. This was not the bulk of her income, but it had surely helped in the purchase and upkeep of her apartment.  
  
A little more than a week after Javert was released, Mallory found herself again at the sad part of the city where the once-lovely women offer themselves as human sacrifices to bitter lust.  
  
'Javert is at work,' she assured herself, 'He will not see me.' She began to stroll an alley, casting her eyes darkly at passing gentlemen, hoping to catch their attention.  
  
Tonight, as it had before, it worked.  
  
As the man made his proposition, a tall form made its way down the street. It was Javert, having been let off his job early. He glanced at the alley, and saw a man speaking harshly and making lewd gestures at a young woman. In the moonlight, he could barely catch a glimpse of the poor girl's face.  
  
Mallory!?  
  
The young man felt his blood boiling. What was she doing out here at this time of night? Who was that man? What was he doing to her? Then the man grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her toward him.  
  
This was all Javert could handle. He let out a cry and threw himself on the man, his fists flying. Mallory gave a cry of surprise. "Javert!" He turned to her, his eyes cold and flashing in the pale light.  
  
"Are you alright?" he asked, so fiercely that for a moment Mallory thought he might attack her as well.  
  
"I'm fine! Javert, what are you - "  
  
"We've got to get out of here," he cut her off. He grabbed her hand and ran off, taking her with him.  
  
~*~  
  
Mallory sat in a chair, her head down. Javert circled her. His head had cooled and he was beginning to realize what Mallory might have been doing. He turned to her, his eyes holding a strange gaze.  
  
"Mallory..." he began, as gently as he could, "What were you doing out there?"  
  
She didn't answer.  
  
He felt his anger growing. "Answer me!" He took her face in his large hand and made her face him. "Tell me the truth, Mallory! Are you a..." he found he could not finish.  
  
Mallory wrenched her face away from him. "I will not lie to you," she muttered.  
  
Javert was dumbstruck. When he regained speech, he implored miserably, "Why, Mallory? Why?" He turned away.  
  
"I needed money," she whispered, not looking at him.  
  
"I thought you had work! The cleaning..." his voice failed. It all sounded so stupid now, of course she could not keep a room like this with such poor wages. He felt as though he was in a dream. This could not be happening, of course not! This was not happening to him, to Mallory, his Mallory. With that thought, *his Mallory,* he felt a fierce protectiveness he had never known before. He turned to her.  
  
"No more."  
  
Her eyes met his. "What?"  
  
"No more. You will not go back. I will get another job, I will get as many as it takes, only *do not go back* to that horrid place!" He knelt in front of her and took her face in his hands. "I won't have you living like that." Their foreheads met and he said roughly, "You took care of me while I was in prison. I should have gone mad without you. You were my saviour. Now let me be yours."  
  
Mallory was shivering. She nodded shakily. Javert sighed and enveloped her in his arms. "Oh Javert," she sobbed, "I'm sorry."  
  
"Shhh..." he silenced her, "Don't say anything. You are all right, you are fine. I will take care of you, you'll see. We'll be fine." He pulled back and stared at her, smiling.  
  
It was at that moment that the strange and unexplainable thing commonly called love happened.  
  
It might have been a shock, or a twitch, or a bolt, or any number of phenomena, but when Javert and Mallory's eyes met in that tense instance, they no longer saw each other as mere companions. There was an intense madness, an ineffable need to be together, a strange feeling drawing them toward each other, something they could not, and did not wish to, stop.  
  
It was in this hazy, floating cloud that their lips met.  
  
~*~  
  
-1799-  
  
Thus another year passed in Le Pradet, a stark contrast to the past five. Javert and Mallory joined that elite group of people who notice nothing of the pain around them, for their eyes were fixed on each other alone. They lived in their apartment, Javert with two jobs, Mallory continuing her work for the old women. They lived comfortably, not well, but not impovrished.  
  
On a clear morning in March, Mallory awoke, stretched, and looked at the man lying next to her. She sighed. He had been acting rather singular lately. Never cold, but often distracted, as though he was making plans in his mind that he hadn't yet told her about. It was curious.  
  
"Wake up," she chided him, gently shaking him by the shoulder. Javert gave a massive yawn and his eyelids slowly rose.  
  
His eyes took a few moments to focus, then he smiled. "Ah!" he said, almost decisively. He sat up and shook his head, his hair loose and tangled. Mallory giggled. He raised an eyebrow, looking at her slyly. "Are you laughing at me?"  
  
The girl shook her head, smiling all the while. "I would never dream of it!" Javert huffed playfully and got up, stretching. Mallory spoke to him as he dressed. "Well, monsieur, what shall we do today?"  
  
Javert pulled on his shirt and thought. "I think..." he said, "That we shall stay home today."  
  
"Stay home!" Mallory exclaimed as she also began to dress herself, "What a bore you are! We won't even take a walk?"  
  
Javert watched her with the sad, smiling expression of a man who has news he doesn't wish to share. He shook his head. "I think not."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
He sat down and sighed. "Mallory... I have something to tell you."  
  
These six words, 'I have something to tell you,' are perhaps the most dreaded words in any language. They always prophesize something unpleasant, something you know you won't like even before you hear it.  
  
For this reason, Mallory began to worry.  
  
"What is it?" she asked warily.  
  
Javert stared out the window for a few tense moments, then turned to face her. "I've decided to leave Le Pradet," he said hurriedly. Mallory stared at him.  
  
"L... Leave?" she asked, carefully, as though she didn't speak properly, "...Why?"  
  
He took her hands gently. "Mallory, I do not like this life for us. You deserve much better than this! I will go to Toulon, I will get a good job, I will become a man of prestige! I will become rich, and we will be happy!"  
  
"What job will you get there that you cannot have here?"  
  
"I will become a police inspector."  
  
Mallory stood aghast. "A police inspector! Have you gone mad? You will become the person that took you away to prison all those years ago? You will become like them?"  
  
"I will not be like them!" Javert protested, becoming excited in his plans, "I will be fair and just! You will see. But I must go to Toulon, it is near here, they will take me in, let me learn. I will stay there for a while, then I will come back for you! Yes, I will come back for you once I have become inspector. I will come back and get you, and we will be married!"  
  
There was a tense silence as his last comment was realized by Mallory.  
  
"Married?" she said in a very small voice.  
  
Javert realized that in his enthusiasm, he had revealed all of his intentions. His eyes widened as he realized something else - he hadn't proposed.  
  
"Oh God," he chided himself, then knelt before her. "That is... if you will have me, Mallory." He gazed up at her imploringly, "Will you have me? That is, will you marry me?"  
  
Mallory found it hard to speak for the lump in her throat.  
  
She managed a quick nod and a laugh. Javert smiled, lept to his feet, and embraced her. "Oh Mallory, you will see! Life will be so much better! You will see." He fumbled in his pocket for a moment, then pulled out a necklace. "You see, Mallory? You gave me a necklace, now I give you one. It will be our ring." He excitedly put it over her head and kissed her.  
  
Mallory, not quite so enthused at Javert, had not forgotten that he was leaving. "How long will you be gone?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, for a few years at least, I'm sure. But it will not seem so long," he assured her. "I leave tomorrow morning."  
  
Mallory could not describe what she felt at that moment. Emotions swam in her head, making her dizzy. She sank into a chair. "Tomorrow!" she gasped.  
  
Javert nodded. Then, for the first time, he noticed her expression. "Oh, you are not happy!" he exclaimed.  
  
"I... I'm not sure what I feel," she confessed. "I am glad that we will be married, but... for you to be gone so long...!"  
  
He smiled sadly. "I know." Kneeling next to her, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. "But I will be back. I promise you that. I promise."  
  
~*~  
  
-1812-  
  
14 years passed.  
  
Javert did not return.  
  
Mallory's mind was a haze. She did not know what to think. Perhaps he had gotten hurt? Perhaps he had lost his way back to her? Perhaps...  
  
Perhaps he had forgotten her?  
  
This thought was more than she could bear. It could not be. He would not forget her.  
  
She walked out of her apartment without looking back. Her destination?  
  
Toulon.  
  
~*~  
  
-1815 Toulon-  
  
"Your number?"  
  
"24601."  
  
"Ah yes... the infamous Jean Valjean." Javert looked up at the prisoner and gave a smirk through his teeth. "You finally are released today, I see." Valjean remained impassable. Javert frowned. "Do not forget that this does not mean you are free," he reminded Valjean, handing him his ticket of leave, "Only that you are on parole. To break it means to be pursued."  
  
Valjean didn't answer. He snatched the ticket away from Javert, giving him a nasty glare. Then he was gone.  
  
~*~  
  
"Inspector Javert, sir," the officer said, "There's some trouble at the women's prison."  
  
"What sort of trouble?" Javert asked, not looking up from his papers.  
  
"One of the prisoners is causing trouble, sir. Being a bit of a rebel, sir. They'd like you to come over and see if you can straighten her out, sir." Javert nodded.  
  
"I'll head over directly."  
  
~*~  
  
"72968. Come with us."  
  
"What is it now?"  
  
"You are to be disciplined. A new inspector is here."  
  
"Lovely."  
  
"Come with us."  
  
The two officers clamped handcuffs onto prisoner 72968's wrists and led her out of her cell. "A new inspector, eh?" she asked mockingly, "Suppose he's gonna straighten me out real nicely, eh? What a treat -" She stopped dead in her tracks in front of the new inspector and gazed up at him.  
  
She stared silently at him for what seemed like ages. She couldn't believe it, but they were the same icy blue eyes, the same proud profile, the same man. The prisoner's eyes welled up with tears that dared not escape down her cheeks. She said in a breathless whisper...  
  
"Oh... Javert."  
  
The inspector glanced down coldly at her. "Is this the prisoner?" he asked with an air that was calmy disquieting. The officers nodded. Prisoner 72968 (whose identity the reader has most likely guessed) turned her head away from his steely gaze.  
  
"I won't misbehave again. Please take me back to my cell," she whispered.  
  
"As if we haven't heard that before," one of her captors sneered.  
  
"This time I mean it. Take me back to my cell, torture me, throw me into the men's camp. Just... don't make me face this man," she pleaded.   
  
A sadistic smile crossed the lips of one of the officers holding her. "Your reputation apparently precedes you, Inspector," he commented to Javert, "See her shake!"  
  
"Apparently," Javert answered, not taking his eyes from the woman, "You may leave us now. I shall speak with her." The officers nodded, turned on their heels, and left.  
  
Thus Javert was left alone with prisoner 72968. Mallory.  
  
They stood in an eerie silence, then Javert sat down. He motioned for Mallory to do the same in a chair across the table. She did so carefully, as though she thought one wrong move would trigger some sort of explosion.  
  
"They tell me you've been quite disagreeable," Javert began, his eyes locked on her. Mallory nodded. "What exactly do they mean?"  
  
"I've been... a bit rebellious," Mallory answered cautiously, "I... tried to escape once. I've started fights with the other women, I've... well, I've tried to stir up rebellion."  
  
"Rebellion?" Javert repeated.  
  
"Yes." Mallory looked up at him. "Javert, why - "  
  
"You will address me as Monsieur the Inspector," Javert answered harshly, his eyes narrowing. Mallory was taken aback. Was this truly her Javert, the man who had given that promise to her so long ago?  
  
"I... I'm sorry." A new thought crossed her mind. "Do you recognize me, Ja... Inspector?"  
  
Javert turned away from her, closing his eyes until the tears that threatened them ebbed away. He answered as stiffly as he could, "They tell me your number is 72968. Should I know you?"  
  
This time, Mallory could not suppress her tears. They rolled down her cheeks like raindrops as she stood up, glaring at him. "Should you know me!? I would hope you would know me! Javert, don't you see me!? It's me, Mallory!" She reached into her shirt and pulled out an age-worn necklace with an M engraved into it. "Do you remember *this,* Inspector!? Do you remember the promise you made to me!?" She sobbed angrily. "You *loved* me, Javert. Had you forgotten!?" She hurled the necklace at him. It bounced off his chest and hit the floor with a dull thud.  
  
Javert watched her cry.  
  
She walked away, sobbing, and banged on the door with her bound hands. "Let me out of here! I don't want to be in here with him anymore!" she cried. The officers that had been standing guard outside the door opened it.  
  
"Let me out! Take me back to my cell! Get me *away* from him!" Mallory howled.  
  
"Restrain her," Javert said quietly. The officers carried her away as she bawled like a woman possessed. When she was gone and the door was shut, Javert bowed his head and finally allowed his tears to fall.  
  
~*~  
  
Two days later, Mallory sat quietly in her cell. She wished she had not thrown her necklace at the cold hearted inspector, as it was the only memory she had of the man he used to be. Suddenly, she heard the door open and footsteps head down the hall.  
  
"The Inspector to see you, Lady 72968. How lucky you are."  
  
"I don't want to see him," Mallory answered sullenly.  
  
"Oh, *well* then..." the officer turned to Javert, mockingly reverant. "Her esteemed highness doesn't wish to see you now, sir. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to - "  
  
"Stand aside," Javert growled, "I don't have time for this." He appeared at the door of her cell. "Leave us," he ordered the officer. He was quick to follow orders.  
  
There was a jangling of keys and Javert opened the door. "What do you want?" Mallory sneered at him. "Come to tell me how much you don't remember me?"  
  
"Calm yourself, Mallory," Javert answered, "I remember you."  
  
Mallory was dumbstruck. She watched open-mouthed as he sat down a bucket and pulled out a washcloth. He kneeled in front of her and took her chin in one large hand. "You're filthy," he remarked, bringing the cloth to her face.  
  
"We all are," was all the Mallory could manage as he began to wash her face. She was silent for a moment, then ventured, "Inspector..."  
  
"You can call me Javert."  
  
Mallory pouted. "Will you make up your mind? I don't know what to call you!" She frowned. "And why is it that now all of a sudden you remember me?"  
  
Javert didn't answer, but reached into his pocket and pulled something out. "I think this belongs to you," he commented, handing her the necklace she had thrown at him.  
  
She took it dumbly. "I... I don't understand."  
  
"You don't need to," Javert answered. He changed the subject. "Why are you here?"  
  
"I stole food."  
  
This made him stiffen slightly. "Oh." He sighed. "How much longer do you have?"  
  
"Two more years." It was her turn to change the subject. "Javert... why didn't you come back for me?" He looked away from her, almost sheepishly.  
  
"I couldn't come back. I had... changed."  
  
"So I noticed. You acted as though you didn't care for me at all."  
  
Javert nodded, then looked at her. "Expect me to. It's... it's not proper, not right, not even legal for an inspector and a criminal to... be involved."  
  
"I'm already illegal," Mallory offered quietly. She suddenly leaned forward and kissed him slowly. For a moment, he offered no resistance, then abruptly pushed her away.  
  
"Mallory, I can't."  
  
She looked at him gently, then nodded. She pulled her necklace over her head. "Thank you for bringing it back to me," she said. "And for the bath," she added, motioning to the rag he had dropped.  
  
"Oh... you're welcome." He stood up stiffly. "I... just wanted to come by to return the necklace. I... thought you might want it." Mallory turned her large green eyes up toward him.  
  
"Where will you go now?" she asked quietly.  
  
Javert sighed. "I had hoped to stay here, so I suppose I will. There's no reason for me to go back to the men's prison, and no real reason for me to leave this place. But remember what I told you," he added as he left.  
  
"I'll never forget," Mallory answered, though he was already gone.  
  
~*~  
  
In the weeks that followed, Mallory tried all she could to behave herself. She did not want to face Javert again.  
  
It is very frustrating to both love and hate someone at the same time.  
  
Mallory loved Javert deeply for the man he had been, but had begun to despise him for the man he had become.  
  
Therefore, she avoided him all she could.  
  
It had been going well. Mallory's behavior had improved greatly. She no longer started fights or tried to escape. She was a model prisoner. Until one day, when some of the more bitter residents of the prison began to ridicule Lesimpre.  
  
Lesimpre was a young woman of about 20. She was in prison for stealing food. Her sentence would have been five years, but it had been shortened to two, because Lesimpre was simple. She was a half-wit, and had not fully understood that what she did was wrong.  
  
Mallory pitied Lesimpre, and was always kind to her. When she saw Barbarine and Clusont, two old women, heckling and jeering at the poor girl, she became angry.  
  
"Leave her alone!" she cried, pulling both women away from the girl.  
  
"Ah, here we have her!" Clusont exclaimed, "Good little girl Mallory!" She cackled.  
  
"Knew you'd get into trouble sooner or later, m'dear!" Barbarine agreed, grinning a half-toothless smile. "Just a matter of time, matter of time!"  
  
An officer found his way to the din. "What's going on here?" he demanded.  
  
"Madame Mallory back to her old tricks again, m'sieur," Clusont answered, leering at Mallory. Before Mallory could speak, her hands were bound and she was being marched to an all-too-familiar office.  
  
"No! Don't take me back there!" she begged, trying to fight the officer's rough grasp.  
  
"How! I can see Monsieur Javert's scared you pretty good, eh?" the officer laughed. Mallory was close to tears. She hung her head, powerless.  
  
~*~  
  
Two orbs of ice stared down at the prisoner. "More discipline for this one?" Javert asked coldly, "It's been a while, 72968." Mallory stared at the floor, forcing her tears away. "Leave us. I will deal with her," Javert ordered the officer. With a cruel smirk, the officer obeyed.  
  
There was silence for a few moments, then Javert knelt next to the woman. "Every time I strike the floor, cry out as if you were in pain."  
  
Mallory nodded, confused. Javert gave the "prisoner" ten lashes, and Mallory cried out each time. Javert was still, then threw his whip down and pulled Mallory into his arms.  
  
"How awful of me..." he said, "But I have been wishing you would get into trouble! How I wanted to see you!" He held her close, but she was cold and did not respond to him. He pulled away. "Mallory?"  
  
"You have wanted to see me?" she asked slowly, "I have been behaving myself so I would not have to see you! I thought you did not want to see me! I thought you would not allow yourself to feel anything for me!" She pushed him away, angry. "Had I known you wanted to see me, I would have gotten into trouble more often! I thought you did not want me! I have avoided you so!" She glared at him.  
  
Javert stared. "You... you have been good on purpose? You did not want to see me?" His brow knit with anguish, "Do you not love me?"  
  
This was more than Mallory could bear. "Do I not love you!? I do not know if I am *allowed* to love you! You are the inspector, I am the prisoner! You are the light, I am the darkness! You are Good, I am Evil!" She turned away from him. "What am I to think when you have two faces for me? You tell me you cannot love me, that we must stay away from each other, then you say you have wanted to be with me! I do not know what to think!" She looked over her shoulder, her eyes full of tears. "Yes Javert, I love you. But I don't know what to do about it."  
  
"Oh God," Javert sighed, "I am sorry!"  
  
The reply was simple. "Do not be sorry. Only tell me what to do."  
  
She was in his arms again. "Love me Mallory... that is all I wish you to do."  
  
~*~  
  
The officers and guards of the prison were quite confused.  
  
Prisoner 72968 had been near to the angels for weeks. Now it was as though she was possessed by a devil. Since the arrival of the new inspector, she had gotten into more trouble than before.  
  
It was very curious.  
  
When it began, Mallory and Javert were very careful. Their "meetings" were few and far between, so as not to attract attention. But as the months passed, they saw each other more frequently, and more carelessly. Mallory stayed longer at a time, and the officers began to notice that she had no marks from her "punishments."  
  
"Do you think there is something between the inspector and the girl?" a young officer, whose name was Bonteaux, asked his comrades one day.  
  
"That cannot be," was the reply from the guard Preaucher, "The Inspector is a good, just man. He would not take up with a girl of her kind. He is too devoted to his duty. He has no time for a woman. And if he did, it would not be a demon like that one. He would have to be insane."  
  
Bonteaux cocked an eyebrow. "Or under a spell."  
  
They said no more of it, and finished their drinks.  
  
~*~  
  
"I have an idea."  
  
"Oh dear," Mallory murmured, burying herself in Javert's chest. She was in is office for one of her "punishments."  
  
"You can come back to my apartment for the night!" Mallory's eyes widened and she stared at him.  
  
"Are you mad? We would get caught!"  
  
"No we wouldn't. I would wait until all the others left to leave, and sneak you out with me. It would be easy."  
  
"Suppose we did get caught?"  
  
"We won't."  
  
She punched him lightly in the arm. "You're so sure! And what will we do tomorrow?"  
  
"We'll wake up early and get you back before anyone else wakes up. It'll be easy." He kissed her. "Please?"  
  
"The great Javert begs," Mallory smirked, gazing at him. "I suppose if I'm back at a safe time..."  
  
Javert's usually stoic face broke into a broad smile. "I'll be very careful, mademoiselle."  
  
~*~  
  
The next morning, Javert woke to find himself alone. "Oh God! Mallory!" he exclaimed. Then his eyes fell on a note at the foot of his bed. It was written in Mallory's crisp but unpracticed writing.  
  
"My Javert,  
  
You are lazy! I woke before the sun and have gone back to prison. I will see you there.  
  
All my love,  
  
Mallory"  
  
Javert sighed and smiled, shaking his head. Then he turned his thoughts to more serious matters. If he slept in today, what would keep him from doing so again? He decided that he would not bring Mallory home with him any more. 'After all,' he thought, 'There are only two years left yet. We will make it through.'  
  
~*~  
  
Later that day, Javert approached Mallory's cell. "You were very lucky today," he commented as the met him at the door. She smiled.  
  
"As I said, you are lazy." She kissed him through the bars. "I was fine. Shall I come again tonight?"  
  
"I thought about it," Javert admitted, "But I think it would be better if you did not. If you should get caught... they would not punish me, I think, it would be a first offense after many years of loyal service... but you... if they were to capture you... I shudder to think..."  
  
She layed a finger across his lips. "Should they catch me, I would become a star for you, Javert," she whispered, "I would become a star for you up in the sky."  
  
Javert was motionless. He sighed. "You are too sure of yourself," he muttered. He glared sternly at her. "If you get caught, do not blame me! It is out of my hands!" He tried to maintain his gaze, but Mallory's sweet expression got the best of him. "Saucy girl!" he exclaimed, "I waste my time!" He reached through the bars and brought her face to his. "I will see you tonight!"  
  
~*~  
  
They met again once all the prisoners were bedded and the guards had gone home. "This is dangerous," Javert pressed as they snuck out. Mallory smiled.  
  
"What is life without a bit of danger?" she asked, squeezing his hand. He didn't answer.  
  
"We must get to bed early," Javert said once they were at his house, but Mallory didn't seem to hear him. He painfully pulled away from her and looked stauntly into her eyes, "Do you hear me?"  
  
"Oh, my inspector..." Mallory sighed, smiling at him, "Your duty will be the ruin of you. Yes, I hear you, I hear you. But it is not tomorrow yet."  
  
~*~  
  
But tomorrow came. And with it, slumber.  
  
~*~  
  
"The Inspector is late!" Bonteaux worried, "Do you think he is sick?"  
  
"Ah, he has overslept," Preaucher muttered, "He will be in. Meanwhile, we'll check up on the prisoners." They strolled from cell to cell, making sure each was in their place.  
  
But someone was missing.  
  
"72968!" Preaucher exclaimed, "We should have known, Bonteaux! She has escaped! We must go to the Inspector - we will start a search immediately!"  
  
~*~  
  
Daylight shone through Javert's window.   
  
Something wasn't right.  
  
"Oh God!" Mallory was asleep next to him. He shook her hurriedly. "Mallory! Mallory! Oh! my God! Oh! We will be caught! Wake up!!!"  
  
Mallory's eyes fluttered open. "What? Why are you shouting?"  
  
"We've slept too late! They'll come looking for us! God!"  
  
She was awake now. "What time is it? Maybe we still have time to - "  
  
She was interuppted by a frantic rap on the door.  
  
"Oh God! They're coming!" Javert was livid. "Hide yourself!"  
  
"Where!?"  
  
Javert threw on his trousers and opened the door. "What?" he demanded in his harshest tone.  
  
Bonteaux and Preaucher stood silent. They had never seen the Inspector in such a state before. "Monsieur," Preaucher ventured, "One of the prisoners has escaped!"  
  
'We are lost,' Javert thought. He took a breath and calmed himself. "Oh? Which?"  
  
"72968, monsieur. The troublemaker. She is gone..." Bonteaux trailed off. He had noticed a piece of clothing laying on the floor behind Javert. "Monsieur?"  
  
Javert turned swiftly. 'Mallory's blouse! We are lost!' he repeated to himself. He turned back to the guards. "What?"  
  
"A prisoner's blouse! Monsieur! She is here!"  
  
Frantic, Javert tried to think of something. "I do not know what you mean! What do you mean? What nonsense are you talking?"  
  
"He is bewitched!" Bonteaux hissed to his comrade, "I told you so! The girl is a witch!"  
  
"The girl? Bewitched?" This time, Javert's confusion was legitimate. "What?"  
  
"Stand aside monsieur, we will handle her!" With that, the two men pushed their way past the bewildered inspector into his apartment. "There she is! Bind her!" Mallory cowered, sobbing and naked, in a corner.  
  
Javert came to his senses. "NO!" he cried, lunging at the men.  
  
"Calm yourself," Preaucher said, placing a hand on the larger man's shoulder, "You do not know what you are saying! This demoness has put a spell on you!"  
  
"A spell? Demoness? You are mad, monsieur!"  
  
"Clothe yourself, whore," Bonteaux spat at Mallory, throwing her clothes to her. Preaucher held Javert back as Bonteaux held his bayonet to Mallory's throat as she dressed. Tears streamed down the lovers' faces.  
  
"You cannot do this!" Javert stated.  
  
"Please monsieur, once she has been taken care of, you will not act so strangely. You will be free from her!" Preaucher assured him. Javert shook his head and muttered feebly,  
  
"I do not wish to be free of her."  
  
~*~  
  
"Take her to the river and throw her in," Preacher advised, "We will see if she is a witch."  
  
"Oh God!" Javert cried, struggling against Preaucher's hold. His fear and anger had made him weak.  
  
Mallory silently sobbed as she was led by a rope around her neck by Bonteaux. "Yes, then we will see," he answered, glaring at the poor woman.  
  
'God forgive me,' Javert thought to himself, 'My sin has killed her! My sin and my love!'  
  
They reached the bank of the river. "Throw her in," Preaucher commanded.  
  
"Wait!" Mallory exclaimed, "I must free your Inspector from my spell first!" Bonteaux looked at Preaucher, who nodded.  
  
"She has one minute," he allowed. Both men released their captives. They rushed to each other.  
  
"My God, my God," Javert sobbed, "They cannot do this! You are not a witch!"  
  
"They will kill me either way," Mallory said to him, tenderly stroking his hair, "They will kill me if I do not drown, and if I drown, I will die. It does not matter now." She kissed his forehead. "Remember that I love you, Javert. Play their game. Play that you are under a spell. It will be best. Do not forget me," she begged him.  
  
"I could never," he replied woefully. He brought his face to hers and they remained thus.  
  
"Come! Time to go now, witch! Release him!" Bonteaux commanded. Mallory slowly seperated from Javert, her beloved, her lover, her only.   
  
"I release you from my spell, Inspector," she said, putting on a strange voice. The two officers led her to the waters. She kept her gaze on Javert.  
  
"Now you meet your fate, demoness."  
  
A tear rolled down Mallory's cheek as Javert watched in horror. "I love you," Mallory sighed as she was thrown into the swirling water.  
  
Javert howled in pain and threw himself to the ground.  
  
~*~  
  
Javert was inconsolable.  
  
He would see no one, he would speak to no one, he would not move from his bed. Mallory's last words replayed in his head. 'Play that you are under a spell. It will be best. Do not forget me. I love you!'  
  
"Oh, but that you knew," he hissed to himself between his teeth, "I *was* under a spell, *your* spell, my love..." Another tear fell down his face. "I am so sorry," he sobbed, "It was I who killed you! My sin! My love! My sin and my love have killed the only people I have ever cared for!" He clutched at his brow. "No more then! There shall be no more of this! I will not destroy any more lives! Duty and honour betray no one! They are constant, they are right! No more sin!  
  
And no more love!"  
  
~*~  
  
"I wish to put in a transfer," Javert muttered to the prefect of police in Toulon.  
  
"I have heard of your unfortunate experience. It is only right that you should want to be away from this place," the prefect agreed. Javert had come to him, stiff and dutiful, the first thing the next morning. "Where do you wish to do?"  
  
"Anywhere," was the answer as Javert gazed out the window. How dare the sun shine? How dare the birds sing? How dare others be happy on a day like this?  
  
"There is a need for an inspector in Montreuil-sur-Mer..."  
  
"That is fine. I will take it."  
  
"A safe journey to you."  
  
~*~  
  
Javert departed from Toulon that night. "Driver," he ordered, "Montreuil-sur-Mer." As the fiacre was set into motion, Javert stared out of the window at the night sky.  
  
The stars gazed back at him.  
  
'I would become a star for you, Javert... I would become a star for you up in the sky.'  
  
~Fin~ 


End file.
